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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26787577">mornin' glory</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunimi/pseuds/kunimi'>kunimi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Magic, Flowers, M/M, Magical Realism, there's references to like four others but those are the mainstays, yamaguchi and aran show up briefly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:00:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,052</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26787577</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunimi/pseuds/kunimi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a smile playing at Kita’s lips, just on the edges of it, like the tiniest bit of amusement tugging at the corners. Atsumu wonders what it would be like to see that smile in full bloom, warming his whole face, like dawn breaking over the horizon. The thought <i>almost</i> makes up for the fact that now he has dirt on his chest. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kawanishi Taichi/Semi Eita, Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Haikyuu Rarepair Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>mornin' glory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarbug/gifts">sugarbug</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>happy exchange, casper!! i'm sorry this is right on the line, things got a little hectic, but i hope you enjoy it! i tried to weave as many of the tropes and characters you identified in as possible, and somehow ended up with a flower shop au that exists somewhere between magical realism and modern magic au.</p><p>huge thanks to the mods for running this event, everyone i sprinted with &amp; my friends for cheering me on when i was running into walls, especially yam, leigh &amp; tae for reading it in various stages, and tae again for beta-ing for me!</p><p>this was written to a playlist which was literally only made up of the entire <i>conversations with myself about you</i> album by lovelytheband, <i>charlie</i> by mallrat, and <i>wtf is sleep?</i> by the worriers.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s weirdly peaceful for a Sunday afternoon.</p><p>Atsumu knows most people <em> have </em> peaceful Sundays, but that’s because most people don’t work at Sakanoshita, the city’s only flower shop that deals in magical plants. For reasons that escape Atsumu, Sunday is the day the magic-wielders of the city flock to the store. Most people who just want a flower for good luck, or a cactus for fortitude, come during weekdays, but Sundays mean Serious Business.</p><p>Atsumu <em> hates </em> Serious Business.</p><p>So, it’s weirdly peaceful for a Sunday afternoon, until three things happen at once. One, Kawanishi turns on the sound system. Two, the barking flowers wake up. Three, the door to the store opens, triggering Moniwa’s <em> Rain of Blessings </em> charm to dust over the newcomer.</p><p>Atsumu straightens up.</p><p>“What the fuck is this?” Semi calls, over the sudden noise blaring through the speakers and the shop. It sounds kind of like a banshee wailing over their lost love—which, to be fair, is entirely possible, Atsumu reflects.</p><p>“Must be Lev’s playlist,” Kawanishi yells back. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not <em> my </em> fault!”</p><p>“You turned it on!” Semi reminds him. Atsumu has to agree with Semi here. Normally, he’d throw Kawanishi a shit-eating grin, mock him alongside Semi, but his eyes are caught on the new customer. He’s moving with a care which Atsumu is struck by, an intention and grace in the way he carefully places his umbrella in the stand which normally stays barren, in the way he looks around the store thoughtfully, in the way he smiles at the bell which releases Moniwa’s charm. He bows to it, and Atsumu is captivated. He’s seen people notice it before—Azumane, with their gentle heart and aptitude for soft things; Suna, with his sharp eyes and extreme awareness of his surroundings—but recognition is rare, and acknowledgement even rarer. Atsumu considers the depth of the customer’s bow, the reverence and gravity in it, the sincerity it holds, and he thinks he’s never seen anyone enter their store like this.</p><p>“Can you turn it off?” Semi demands, to which Kawanishi makes a rude gesture, but immediately closes his eyes, pressing his hands to the wall. Sometimes Atsumu thinks Kawanishi’s magic is pointless, mostly because it is, but he has to admit that it’s useful in situations like this. Though, if Kawanishi had just turned on the sound system like anyone else instead of using his trick, they probably wouldn’t have had to suffer Lev’s playlist in the first place.</p><p>Finally, the wailing stops, replaced with something sharp and wistful. Atsumu thinks it’s a siren song. He also thinks Semi was playing it a <em> lot </em> last week. He gives Kawanishi a sidelong glance, but the taller boy refuses to meet his eyes.</p><p>Atsumu <em> will </em> be bothering him about that later. He hasn’t had a brother his entire life just to let go of a perfect teasing opportunity like <em> that</em>.</p><p>“Can ya make ‘em stop barkin’ now too?” Atsumu grumbles, suddenly very aware of the flowers to his left that haven’t shut up ever since Lev’s stupid music woke them up. Honestly. <em> Barking flowers</em>. Worst fucking idea ever. Atsumu really doesn’t understand herbologists. He’s never met a single one who actually decided to grow something <em> cool</em>—or at least, like, <em> useful</em>—and he’s met a <em> lot </em> of them.</p><p>(Every time he complains about this to Osamu, his twin gives him a deadpan stare and says something to the effect of <em> well, why don’t ya just quit? </em> Which is easy for him to say, when he works at a coffee shop and is surrounded by his favourite thing all the time: food. Atsumu is surrounded by <em> flowers</em>. Some of which <em> bark</em>. His life is a cosmic joke, it’s official.)</p><p>“On it,” Semi sighs, heading over to the hybrid flowers section. It’s really Kawanishi’s fault, so he should probably do it, but it’s honestly best for everyone if Semi does it. He’s got a knack for soothing things—probably a side effect from everyone being a little in love with him. (No matter how much Osamu says Atsumu is frequently dramatic, he’s totally serious this time. Semi’s grandmother was a siren or something, and apparently one of the side effects of siren lineage is being super hot to everyone. Atsumu is not jealous. Really. Shut <em> up</em>, ‘Samu.) Living things tend to listen when he speaks, even plants, which is ridiculous, if you ask Atsumu, but whatever, he’s not going to complain if it means the flowers will shut up.</p><p>“Sorry about that,” Atsumu says to the newcomer, because he <em> does </em> have manners, fuck whatever his co-workers say. Or ‘Samu. Or Suna. Or Gin.</p><p>On reflection, Atsumu thinks he should get more supportive friends.</p><p>He shoots the customer a smile, bright and charming, which his mother says is a delight to be blessed with, and Suna says is reminiscent of a ventriloquist’s doll. He <em> really </em> needs better friends.</p><p>“It’s all right,” the customer says, and it’s not quite gentle, but it’s quiet and steady in a way which is rare to be found in the bounds of this store. Atsumu watches him in fascination. For as long as he can remember, his teachers have all said things along the lines of <em> easily bored </em> — <em> loses interest in things he finds easy </em> — <em> seeks out challenges</em>. Atsumu isn’t stupid. He knows these are polite ways to describe what they think is a flaw, but he disagrees: what’s so wrong with not wanting to waste his time on anything that isn’t the best?</p><p>Objectively, nothing about the customer should have drawn his attention. He’s not in any way <em> striking</em>: not particularly tall—actually, not tall at all—nor notably handsome like Semi or Semi’s roommate Oikawa, who is, in Atsumu’s opinion, unreasonably pretty for someone who is <em> such </em> a fucking nerd.</p><p>There’s nothing about the customer that should have caught Atsumu’s eye, yet his gaze rests on him anyway. It’s the way he moves, maybe, like every action matters. Like all his choices are important. Like they’re all building into who he’ll be tomorrow.</p><p><em> Yesterdays </em> and <em> tomorrows </em> have never been Atsumu’s domain. He holds court over the <em> todays</em>, and exists from moment to moment. What’s the point of thinking about yesterday, when today is right in front of you, bright and alive and demanding your attention? What’s the point of worrying about tomorrow, when today is still to be conquered?</p><p>Who needs memories?</p><p>“<em>Flora canis </em> are easily awoken by loud noises,” the customer says, bringing Atsumu back to the moment, to the store, to him. “They’re not really like dogs, despite the name, but if they hear anythin’ that’s like their song, they wanna sing back.” He shrugs, as if this is reasonable behaviour, and not the cause of half of Atsumu’s waking nightmares.</p><p>There’s a lot to process in the two sentences the customer uttered, in his precise way, and for a moment, Atsumu doesn’t even know where to begin. Then: “Y’can’t really call that a <em> song</em>,” he says incredulously, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to the row of the plants Semi is now calming down. Music’s not really his thing—much more Semi and Kawanishi’s area—but he’s pretty sure flowers doing their best to imitate a particularly loud Kishu puppy doesn’t really qualify for a Grammy.</p><p>The customer meets his eyes, and Atsumu is struck by how sharp his eyes are. It’s almost unnerving. It’s not the colour, because they’re just brown, a lighter shade than Atsumu’s own. It’s something about the force of his gaze—or the clarity of it, maybe. Miya Atsumu does not shy away from much—from anything, really—but something about this stare challenges every inch of his spine. Not because it’s scary, though—it’s more like he’s exposed beneath it, like these eyes can somehow see right to the heart of Atsumu. It’s disconcerting, Atsumu thinks, to feel so pinned down by someone whose name he does not know.</p><p>“All livin’ things have their songs,” he says to Atsumu, and it’s not a rebuke, but Atsumu feels a burning instinct to duck his head regardless. He resists, though, because he is not sixteen and being scolded by a prefect; he’s twenty-two years old, in his final year at the magic college, and a bona fide whiz with air magic. He’s never been cowed easily, and a customer with hair the same colour scheme as Semi’s and a steady gaze shouldn’t undo that reputation just by existing.</p><p>“Kita-san,” Semi says, and the moment is broken. Atsumu dimly notes the quiet of the store now, the light strains of siren song from the speakers the only thing to be heard. Semi has a soft smile on his face as he looks at the customer—<em>Kita-san</em>, Atsumu repeats to himself, like a mantra, like a prayer—and Atsumu recognises the genuine fondness in his eyes. “How can we help you today?”</p><p>“Ah, there was a message from Yamaguchi-kun in the scry glass,” Kita says. “Aran ordered some moonlace which arrived this morning. I was using the dawn magics, or else I’d have come then.”</p><p>Semi nods. “Oh, yeah, it’s at the back—c’mon, I’ll take you. Atsumu, can you water the <em> kuroyuri? </em> Make sure not to touch them, though.”</p><p>He heads out the back. Kita starts to follow him, before pausing, turning to face Atsumu. There’s a gravity to his gaze that makes Atsumu feel seen in a way that he both craves and wants to run away from, but all Kita does is bow his head slightly.</p><p>“It was good meetin’ you, Atsumu-kun,” he says, and then he slips out into the back room after Semi, leaving Atsumu standing behind the counter, his heart beating to the sound of a siren song and Kawanishi sweeping. And pining, probably.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>✧<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>So, it turns out the reason Atsumu had never met Kita before was because he usually comes in the mornings.</p><p>“And <em> you’re </em> a lazy bastard who always tries to get shifts that start at 11 at earliest,” Futakuchi says, rolling his eyes as he pretends to re-pot some coreopsis. As far as Atsumu can tell, he’s mostly just moving soil around.</p><p>“I’m a dedicated college student, thank ya very much,” Atsumu retorts, flicking a bit of dirt at Futakuchi.</p><p>Futakuchi doesn’t even blink, summoning a shield to deflect the dirt as easily as Atsumu had whipped up a tiny breeze to send it at him. “We’re all college students, asshole,” he says, looking amused despite himself. “Though why Semi decided to do a fifth year independent study is beyond me. Fuck that.”</p><p>Atsumu hasn’t thought about it much, but it confuses him too. On paper, it’s a classic move from someone who wants to delay the inevitable—moving onto the next stage of life—but Semi Eita exists in bold strokes and defiance, even when he makes soft expressions and cares too much, so it’s difficult for Atsumu to fathom that being his motivation. Admittedly, it’s difficult for Atsumu to understand hesitation being a reason to hold someone back anyway. He has no time, no patience, for people who don’t know what they want.</p><p>“It’s a miracle you haven’t already dropped out,” Sakusa says flatly, not looking up from whatever he’s doing. Atsumu squints at him. </p><p>“Are you trying to use your lint roller on the counter now?” he asks, genuinely curious and mildly concerned.</p><p>The look he receives in return is unfairly scornful, he thinks.</p><p>“I’m strengthening the wards,” Sakusa says. “I’m using this to capture any spillover of magic.”</p><p>Not that there will be any, because Sakusa is precise and never makes mistakes with his magic. That’s what Atsumu imagines Sakusa is thinking, anyway. It’s possible that Atsumu is projecting scornful thoughts onto Sakusa. In his defence, Sakusa has a very scornful resting expression.</p><p>Before Atsumu can bother him further, the door opens, and two people walk in. Kawanishi and his best friend, Shirabu. Who, incidentally, declared Atsumu and Futakuchi to be his enemies within half an hour of first meeting them, forever earning himself a spot as one of the few people in the world Sakusa will voluntarily interact with.</p><p>“Oh, good, you’re here,” Futakuchi says, stretching out. “I’m off, then.” He shakes off his hands, as if he’s done anything but touch dirt all day, and carefully avoids the petals of the coreopsis. Atsumu frowns. He has no idea what coreopsis does, but he has a feeling that it’s probably something significant if <em> Futakuchi</em>, who has shielding magic, has been avoiding touching it all afternoon.</p><p>“No, stay for a second,” Shirabu says, to the utter astonishment of <em> everyone</em>. Sakusa even stops his lint rolling.</p><p>Futakuchi’s jaw is hanging open, but he snaps it shut. “What happened to dreaming of shoving a cactus into my mouth?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>Shirabu scowls at him, but waves his hand. “This takes precedence,” he says, then fixes his eyes on Kawanishi, who sighs, looking like he knows what’s coming and wishes he had a more useful magic, like stopping time. “Did you all know Taichi and Semi-san are apparently <em> dating?” </em></p><p>“You’re <em> what?” </em> screeches Futakuchi, while Atsumu’s head whips from Shirabu to study Kawanishi. Even Sakusa seems slightly taken aback.</p><p>Atsumu runs it all through his head, and he’s not surprised that there are feelings there, especially on Kawanishi’s side. He’s really not. He’s just surprised anyone <em> did </em> something about it. Eyeing Kawanishi, he notices how his cheeks seem slightly ruddy, and his lips are doing something funny, like they’re trying not to twist. Interesting.</p><p>“He did play siren songs for Semi the other day,” Atsumu says, just because he can.</p><p>Shirabu’s eyes widen, and he gives Kawanishi a Look. Kawanishi shrugs sort of helplessly, then rolls his eyes, as if to ask <em> what did you expect? </em></p><p>Futakuchi starts laughing. Sakusa seems to have recovered, and has returned to lint rolling specks of magic which Atsumu is certain haven’t even escaped, though every so often he glances at Kawanishi thoughtfully.</p><p>“You’re a sap,” Shirabu says, scrunching his nose at his best friend. “With bad taste,” he adds.</p><p>Kawanishi rolls his eyes. “You like Semi, don’t lie to me,” he says, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>“Slander,” Shirabu announces. “Anyway. I’m still suspicious of this, but whatever.”</p><p>“Suspicious of <em> what?” </em> Kawanishi demands, exasperated, but Atsumu doesn’t hear what Shirabu says in response. His attention is caught by the scry glass shimmering on the back wall, and hops off his perch at the edge of the table Futakuchi was pretending to work at. Sliding past Sakusa, who ignores him in favour of frowning at his lint roller, Atsumu taps on the glass, revealing the message.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I am bringing the dawn-lilies that were requested the other day. The bulbs have dulled to a low warmth, so they are at the optimum stage to transport them, if you have a planting box ready? Please advise. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> —Kita Shinsuke</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu doesn’t even hesitate. He sends a pulse of acceptance through the glass without a second thought, and with absolutely no consideration for whether they have any of the right materials.</p><p><em> I will see you in fifteen minutes</em>, comes the next message, and Atsumu grins.</p><p>He hears a throat being cleared behind him, and turns to find Sakusa frowning at him.</p><p>“What did you do?” Sakusa asks, and Atsumu’s smile dims slightly.</p><p>“Oi—Kawanishi!” he calls out, instead of answering Sakusa. “D’you have any idea what we need for housing dawn-lilies?”</p><p>Everyone stares at him for a second. Then:</p><p>“Fucking hell,” Kawanishi mutters, as Futakuchi starts laughing. Sakusa looks vaguely like he’s considering punching himself so he doesn’t have to be privy to this.</p><p>It turns out that they have none of the necessary materials, and that there’s a lot of weirdly specific things to be done to house dawn-lily bulbs—again, Atsumu is <em> baffled </em> by herbologists and their choices—but luckily Semi knows how to prepare the soil nest, at least, and he talks them through it over FaceTime.</p><p>“Can you use the scry glass?” Shirabu demands, squinting at Kawanishi’s phone screen, having elected himself chief assistant in setting up the soil nest, as the most skilled amongst them in ritual magics.</p><p>“Some of us were scholarship kids, Shirabu,” Semi retorts, and Shirabu huffs, but subsides, listening carefully to Semi’s instructions.</p><p>“You owe, like, everyone,” Kawanishi murmurs to Atsumu, but his eyes are fixed on Shirabu listening to Semi. They’re fond, like he’s having emotions about his best friend and his boyfriend getting along, which is embarrassing, in Atsumu’s opinion, but it provides him an out in this case, so he takes it.</p><p>“Yeah, but you get to see your favourites playing nice, so I think we should be square,” he says, and Kawanishi frowns, but his cheeks tinge pink.</p><p>“Shut the fuck up,” he mutters, shoving Atsumu slightly, and doesn’t look his way again. Atsumu grins, smug.</p><p>By the time Kita arrives, they’ve got a pretty good planting box set up for the dawn-lilies, Futakuchi has clocked out, and Shirabu has only muttered insults about Atsumu thrice, so Atsumu counts it as a successful endeavour.</p><p>He watches for approximately six minutes, before he promptly gets bored of watching five people—Kita having brought a co-worker with him, a handsome man he calls Aran, and Shirabu apparently deciding he works here now, despite having a class to get to in twenty minutes—crowd around a planting box, and heads back out to the storefront, reclaiming his perch on the table where Futakuchi was tending to the coreopsis.</p><p>It’s where Kita finds him, twirling his finger and watching a stream of dirt whirling around in the air, like a mini-hurricane at Atsumu’s behest.</p><p>“You’re an air magician,” Kita says, and Atsumu startles, the dirt falling onto his chest. He’s leaning back on one hand, and manages not to slip, but it’s a close thing.</p><p>There’s a smile playing at Kita’s lips, just on the edges of it, like the tiniest bit of amusement tugging at the corners. Atsumu wonders what it would be like to see that smile in full bloom, warming his whole face, like dawn breaking over the horizon. The thought <em> almost </em> makes up for the fact that now he has dirt on his chest. </p><p>Scowling down at his chest, he brushes it off with the hand he was using to manipulate the air, leaning back a little as he does so. “Yeah, I’m—” he begins saying, before breaking off when he feels Kita’s hand steadying his shoulder. He immediately glances up at him, raising an eyebrow even as a flush rises slightly in his cheeks.</p><p>“You were leaning close to the coreopsis petals,” Kita explains, sounding completely unflustered. Hmph. “They look like a midnight strain, so… love at first sight.” His tone turns wry. “I’m guessin’ you weren’t wanting to get any of that on you right now,” he says.</p><p>Atsumu shudders, leaning forward, as far away from the plants as he can get. <em> Now </em> he understands why Futakuchi had been so avoidant with them. “Yeah, or ever,” he mumbles, scrunching his nose at them. <em> Fuck </em> magical plants, honestly. Everyone said <em> go work in the flower shop, it’ll be laidback</em>. Nobody mentioned flowers that spelled you into love at first sight—or ones that <em> bark</em>, for that matter. </p><p>Kita hums, interrupting his mental diatribe. “Y’don’t really like flowers that much, do you?” he asks. It’s a curious question, but his tone isn’t pushy or surprised; it’s just matter-of-fact, like this is an inevitable fact of the world, as ridiculous as it may be for someone to work in a flower shop when they spend their free time squawking at every choice herbologists make.</p><p>Atsumu knows that Kita knows flowers, probably better than anyone in the shop. He cares for them, respects them, and understands them in a way Atsumu only understands air and his brother. The polite thing to do, he knows, would be to compromise, or to talk around his dislike in a way which reduces the sting; but Atsumu is Atsumu, blunt and abrasive to a fault, and never afraid to say exactly what he’s thinking. </p><p>“Nah,” he says, shrugging at Kita. “I mean, some are useful, I guess, but—barkin’ flowers? Love at first sight? Those weird shark teeth ones Kawanishi had to put in a bouquet for that pissed off lady the other day? What the fuck. And the language of flowers! What? Gimme cheers or jeers, whatever I earn, but—<em>tch</em>.” He cuts himself off, making a disgusted noise and scrunching up his nose.</p><p>Kita is eyeing him steadily, but his eyes are soft—or at least not hard, which Atsumu will take as a win—and maybe a little amused. “<em>Hanakotoba </em> has a long history,” he says mildly.</p><p>Atsumu pulls a face. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “I bet you know lots of history and ritual magic, huh?” <em> I bet you have no gaps at all</em>.</p><p>“I like rituals,” Kita says, shrugging slightly. “Building something out of the small things—repetition, little actions, even ones that aren’t magic. It’s what makes us who we are, I think.”</p><p>Atsumu stares at him for a moment, then huffs a little laugh. “Yer an interestin’ one, aren’tcha, Kita-san?”</p><p>Kita furrows his brow, but then the back room opens, a cacophony of noise and people spilling out, followed at an obvious distance by a disgruntled Sakusa.</p><p>“Done,” Aran says, smiling at Kita. “We should head off now, I think—Ennoshita is probably finished in the greenhouses by now.”</p><p>Kita nods, then turns to Atsumu. His eyes are still so unnerving, Atsumu thinks. Or maybe not unnerving—it’s not unpleasant, after all, to be on the other end of their gaze. It’s just something heady. Like being seen with an intention he isn’t used to.</p><p>“It was good to speak to you again, Atsumu-kun,” he says, bowing his head slightly. His lips curve ever-so-slightly into the ghost of a smile. “You’re an interesting one too.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>✧<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>After that, Atsumu signs up for more morning shifts. He ignores Futakuchi’s smirks and Kawanishi’s incredulous looks, and <em> especially </em> ignores Sakusa’s judgemental stare when he sees the roster the first week Atsumu has multiple shifts starting before eleven.</p><p>The first few days, there’s not much different to normal. He <em> finally </em> gets to meet Owl Boy, who turns out to be a wingling with weirdly spiked hair, a boisterous attitude, and way too much volume for the hour of the morning he tends to visit the store. Even everything he’s heard from Futakuchi didn’t prepare him for how <em> bright </em> he seems, and it’s kind of exhilarating, even if it’s a lot to deal with in the morning. One day, he drags a familiar face in with him, and Atsumu’s jaw drops open as he recognises the yawning customer.</p><p>“I didn’t think ya even knew how to wake up before noon,” he marvels, observing his usual late night customer in the light of day. Said customer—who Atsumu usually just calls Rooster Head, internally—flips him off.</p><p>“Your customer service sucks,” he says through a yawn, then tucks his head over Owl Boy’s shoulder. “Bo,” he says, “can we go? The blonde one’s here.”</p><p>Atsumu can feel his expression rippling with indignation when Owl Boy suddenly says, “I like him! He’s entertaining!”</p><p>Atsumu had no idea he was any such thing to Owl Boy, but he’ll take anything over the extreme character assassination he seems to suffer on a daily basis.</p><p>“Yeah,” he says, barely resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at Rooster Head. “I’m <em> entertaining</em>.”</p><p>“Don’t you normally do evening shifts?” Rooster Head asks, yawning slightly again. “How come you’re here so early?”</p><p>“Yer the one yawning,” Atsumu points out, disgruntled.</p><p>“He wants to see Kita-san,” Kawanishi supplies, because he has no loyalty. Atsumu whips around to glare at him, but he’s distracted by a weird noise, kind of like a wild animal—oh. It’s just Rooster Head’s laugh.</p><p>“Wow. I would never have guessed Kita was your type,” Rooster Head says, sounding extremely amused.</p><p>“I know, right?” Kawanishi muses, breathing in the fumes from the coffee Atsumu brought him that morning from Osamu’s workplace, the <em> traitor</em>. Atsumu snatches it from his hands, because although he doesn’t drink coffee himself, traitors don’t deserve to benefit from the <em> good humour </em> he knows Yukie sprinkles into all the coffees she makes. He should have gotten her to put in <em> compassion </em> or <em> loyalty to coworkers and not Rooster Heads</em>, he thinks mutinously.</p><p>“On the other hand, ya look <em> exactly </em> like yer type would be bossy sirens,” Atsumu snarks back.</p><p>Rooster Head straightens up, eyes gleaming with interest. “Oh, you’re Semi’s boy?” he asks, looking a little like a cat who got the canary.</p><p>Owl Boy’s eyes light up, before his expression falls slightly, shifting into confusion. “Wait, didn’t Oikawa say it was just preten—”</p><p>Rooster Boy, not very subtly, steps on Owl Boy’s foot. Atsumu whips his head to Kawanishi, who immediately places his hand on the wall. A moment later, some upbeat pop song that sounds like it’s being sung by fucking <em> rock giants </em> starts playing through the store, and Atsumu resists the urge to throw the coffee at the speaker. Or Kawanishi.</p><p>“That’s our cue,” Rooster Boy says, but not before leaning in to smirk at Atsumu. “I hope you see Kita soon.”</p><p>“Oh! Yeah, I know him from the academy, he’s cool,” Owl Boy says, beaming at Atsumu. “I never went to the college after finishing at the academy so I didn’t see him there, but I know Aran pretty well, so I still see them around sometimes. Good luck!” He gives Atsumu a thumbs up, and waves cheerily even as Rooster Head drags him out the door, rolling his eyes fondly at him.</p><p>The door is still swinging shut when Atsumu turns on Kawanishi, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>Kawanishi raises one back.</p><p>“So, you and Semi are faking it?” Atsumu asks, never one to beat around the bush.</p><p>Kawanishi sighs. “Kind of?” He rubs the back of his neck, glances up at the ceiling, then looks back at Atsumu. “He was getting confessed to by someone who was just <em> not </em> getting the hint, and I just… helped out.”</p><p>“Helped out,” Atsumu echoes flatly.</p><p>“Yes,” Kawanishi glares, then exhales a breath. “I just pretended to be his boyfriend, but she stuck around for a bit, and it turns out he knows her brother, so... “ He trails off, then tacks on, “I’ve got a wedding to go to in a few weeks anyway, so it works out, and we’ll just… amicably break up, or something, I guess.”</p><p>“But ya like him,” Atsumu says, furrowing his brow. Kawanishi looks caught, and also entirely displeased by the turn this conversation has taken, but if Atsumu cared about what people’s facial expressions indicated, he would have nicer friends. “Yer pretendin’ to be the boyfriend of the boy ya actually like, and ya think it’s gonna be easy to break up later?” He snorts. </p><p>Kawanishi snatches back the coffee, and resolutely does not look at Atsumu, which just makes Atsumu snort again, heading over to prune the weeping willows.</p><p>“You’re taking a surprising amount of care with those, Atsumu,” Yamaguchi says when he shows up, eyeing Atsumu dabbing the trees’ tears for once, instead of just putting a bucket under them to catch them.</p><p>“I’m imagining they’re Kawanishi,” Atsumu says cheerfully. “Good practice!”</p><p>Kawanishi is still playing Tengu love songs as revenge when Atsumu finally finishes his shift three hours later.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>✧<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Over the weeks that follow, Atsumu sees Owl Boy enough times that he starts calling him Bokkun and earns the nickname Tsum Tsum in response, much to Sakusa’s endless amusement, and is reasonably sure he and Rooster Head—apparently named Kuroo, according to Bokuto and Semi—are dating. Atsumu thinks Bokkun could do better, but whatever. Kawanishi and Semi also keep glancing at each other in ways that make Atsumu feel even more convinced that as much as it’s meant to be pretend, they’re not doing a very good job of it. Not that he intends to intervene. It’s more entertaining to watch people talk about how they <em> knew </em> they would eventually get together, or how they’re such a good couple, and see the way Kawanishi’s cheeks flush and Semi’s brow knits together.</p><p>Over those weeks, Atsumu also sees Kita.</p><p>Sometimes he comes in for just a short stop, to drop something off or to pick up an order. He always, without fail, talks to Atsumu. Sometimes it’s just to wish him a good day; others, it’s commentary on what’s happening in the shop, or in the world around them, or the movements of the stars. Each time, he looks at Atsumu with the same focus Atsumu gives to his magic, to his feats of spinning wind into something fierce and unstoppable, like Atsumu is something to look at with just as much intent.</p><p>Each time, Atsumu comes a little more undone.</p><p>Sometimes, Kita comes in when it’s just Atsumu in the shop—either whoever else is on shift is in the back room, or it’s so early that Atsumu is the only one there, ready to greet the sunrise alone, only to be met with Kita, lit aglow by the dawn. Atsumu doesn’t care about flowers, and would quite happily go the rest of his life not knowing anything about them, his current job be damned, but sometimes he thinks he could listen to Kita talk about them forever. He learns to never eat anything dusted with a powdered blend of violets and white chrysanthemums, lest he give away any part of himself he wasn’t ready to—“Though,” Kita says, something fond playing at the edges of his lips, “I get the feeling you’re honest enough without it,” and something in Atsumu’s chest aches with how at peace he sounds about that—but to take a bouquet of them as a compliment. He learns that moonlace can be threaded through ordinary plants to catch light within them, and that soil magic is one of the most underrated aspects of earth magic. He learns that Kita’s eyes look softer in the light of the dawn, and that when their fingers brush together, Atsumu’s hand feels electric for the rest of the day, like the path of Kita’s fingers is a ghost that still wanders his skin.</p><p>The time Osamu meets Kita is not like those times.</p><p>Atsumu is, as per usual, ignoring his responsibilities to talk to Kita. This is how Sakusa puts it, whenever asked, but Kawanishi and Futakuchi both always back up this description, because they are terrible friends and colleagues who wish to thwart Atsumu’s happiness.</p><p>“Oh, yeah, we got these fanged dandelions? Really fuckin’ freaky—” Atsumu is saying when he is rudely interrupted.</p><p>“Oi, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu says, and Atsumu pauses, turning alongside Kita to face his brother. He can feel Kita’s surprise rather than see it, because Kita’s expression doesn’t really shift, except to raise an eyebrow ever so slightly.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” Atsumu demands.</p><p>Osamu rolls his eyes at him. “You left your assignment at the café, ya fucker,” he says, shoving a sheaf of papers at Atsumu’s chest. “Should’ve just left them there and let ya fail.”</p><p>Atsumu scowls at him. “‘Scuse you, I’m nowhere <em> near </em> risk of failing,” he huffs. Though, talented student or not, his professor would probably have had his head for forgetting the assignment. But <em> still</em>, no need for Osamu to embarrass him.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Osamu says, rolling his eyes. He peers at Kita. “Are ya a customer? Y’seem too smart to work here, if yer still choosin’ to talk to ‘Tsumu instead of doing literally anythin’ else, but I didn’t realise his customer service was <em> that </em> useless that he just described random plants as ‘really fuckin’ freaky’.”</p><p>Somewhere behind him, Atsumu hears Sakusa snort. He sends a gust of wind in his direction, and feels satisfied to hear a grinding of teeth.</p><p>“I am,” Kita says. Luckily, he seems a little amused by Osamu, not that Atsumu can begin to fathom why. “I’m sometimes a supplier too, but I get a lot from here. I’m Kita Shinsuke.”</p><p>Osamu bows his head a little in greeting. “Miya Osamu,” he says. “Everyone just calls me Osamu, though—no point using Miya when there’s two of ya, y’know?” He gestures his head towards Atsumu, as if it’s not obvious to anyone with eyes who the other Miya would have been. “So, do ya work in herbology?”</p><p>Atsumu is appalled. Osamu is <em> completely </em> hijacking his game. His life is still a cosmic joke, what the fuck.</p><p>The scry glass shimmers then, indicating a new message. Atsumu glances at Sakusa, to see if he’ll get it, but he seems to be focused on staring… at the wall? What? Atsumu is officially the only normal person who works in the entire shop.</p><p>With a sigh, he leaves Kita to his evil twin’s clutches, and goes to check the scry glass. After filing the order, he turns back around to survey the scene in the shop. After a moment, he notices that Sakusa is doing the same as him, but something about it seems odd. Atsumu squints, tracking his gaze.</p><p>Sakusa is deliberately not looking at Osamu, in a way that feels totally different to how he acts when he’s in the mood to ignore Atsumu or Futakuchi, and Atsumu narrows his eyes. He glances back at his brother, who is still talking to Kita, but after a moment, he catches Osamu’s gaze flicking to rest on Sakusa. It’s just for a moment, before he refocuses on Kita, but it’s enough for Atsumu’s own gaze to whip to Sakusa.</p><p>“What the fuck,” he mutters under his breath.</p><p>Sakusa’s cheeks look warm under his mask, but he resolutely does not look up at Atsumu. Unfortunately for him, Atsumu has been a twin his entire life, and is excellent at not letting things go.</p><p>“Are you flirting with my <em> brother?” </em> he demands.</p><p>Sakusa shoots him a ferocious glare. “I am warding this <em> kuroyuri </em> for transport,” he says flatly. “Your brother is talking to the farmer <em> you’re </em> obsessed with. Unless you’re expecting me to be flirting <em> telepathically</em>—”</p><p>“Oh my god, shut up,” Atsumu says, already cringing at the idea of what Osamu will do with any of the words Sakusa has said. Let alone <em> Kita </em> hearing it. He glances over to where they’re talking. Kita still looks the same as ever, composed and careful, with a consideration in his every movement that makes something in Atsumu’s heart stutter, but Osamu, otherwise known as the bane of Atsumu’s existence, has a slight glow to his cheeks. Most would assume it to be innocuous, but Atsumu knows his brother, and knows him to be a demonic entity in the guise of the slightly less handsome Miya twin, and recognises that expression to mean Osamu heard Sakusa, and is now equipped with more weapons of Atsumu’s destruction.</p><p>“Omi-kuuuuun,” Atsumu whines. “You’re the worst.”</p><p>Sakusa snorts. Atsumu would be more amazed at him making such a noise twice in short succession if he wasn’t so busy being indignant about it being at his expense. “Right back at you.”</p><p>Atsumu drops his head to the table and groans.</p><p>(Later that night, when they’re at home, Osamu appears in his doorway, smirking slightly.</p><p>“So,” he drawls. “Kita-san, huh?”</p><p>Atsumu throws a pillow at him, before letting out a muffled shriek into the pillow he has left. He uses his magic to close the door on a laughing Osamu, flopping onto his back to groan.</p><p>Twenty minutes later, he’s splayed out across Osamu’s bed, recounting every single interaction he’s ever had with Kita, as Osamu doles out mockery and advice in equal measure.)<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>✧<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Atsumu is perched over his assignment, sitting on the edge of the potting bench. Shirabu, who came in with Kawanishi when his shift started to wait around until his class starts, is sitting at the other end. Normally, that would still be too close of contact for Shirabu’s liking, but they’re sheltering from the ‘couple vibes’ radiating off Semi and Kawanishi over near the counter with the cash register.</p><p>It’s funny, Atsumu muses. As far as he can tell, nothing has actually changed with their agreement, but they’re definitely acting more like a real couple than ever. He caught them holding hands yesterday when nobody else was even in the room. Lately, he’s noticed Semi watching Kawanishi thoughtfully; he’s always been one of the more considerate people that work there, but Atsumu thinks this is something different. There’s a weight to his gaze that wasn’t there before, a question to it.</p><p>Atsumu, personally, thinks it’s fucking <em> hilarious </em> how they’re basically actually dating, and the only two people who think they’re not are themselves.</p><p>“Ugh,” Shirabu says, looking at Semi smiling at Kawanishi. “People in relationships are disgusting.”</p><p>Semi throws a cloth at him, and Kawanishi raises an eyebrow. “What about the bowlcut kid with the big eyes following you everywhere? The one you tutor?”</p><p>Shirabu stares back. “What <em> about </em> him?” he demands, sounding nonplussed.</p><p>“He definitely has a crush on you,” Kawanishi says.</p><p>Shirabu makes a face. “He doesn’t know me,” he says.</p><p>Atsumu thinks about that, thinks about Kita, thinks about the way his eyes gravitated to him from the moment he first saw him. He thinks about how nothing about him was inherently attention-grabbing, but the things he did were worth paying attention to. He thinks about how Kita seems to see him every time they speak, as Atsumu, whoever that means in the moment, not Miya Atsumu, golden boy and air magician extraordinaire. He thinks about quiet, steady glances, slowly building, and wonders what it means to know someone.</p><p>He wonders if he knows Kita, if Kita knows him.</p><p>He wonders if it matters.</p><p>He thinks maybe being seen is enough.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>✧</p><p><br/>
Atsumu is opening the shop, and Kita Shinsuke comes with the dawn.</p><p>“Atsumu-kun,” he says, and Atsumu can’t help the smile that springs to his face.</p><p>“Hey, Kita-san,” he says, unlocking the door. “Y’comin’ in?”</p><p>Kita nods, and they enter together, like a routine, like a ritual. Atsumu thinks, suddenly, of what Kita had said that day with the dawn-lilies, about liking rituals, and how he thinks they build you into who you are. Atsumu isn’t sure he agrees, and he still thinks rituals are mostly boring, a process you have to go through to get to the result, but he thinks he likes carrying out this one with Kita.</p><p>“Y’want some tea?” Atsumu asks, slinging his scarf onto the coat rack.</p><p>Kita raises an eyebrow. Atsumu shrugs. “Well, <em> I’m </em> makin’ tea, so yer welcome to have some, if ya feel like it,” he says.</p><p>There’s a faint smile at Kita’s lips, and Atsumu feels a little like he’s struck gold. It just makes him want to tug a steadier, more decisive smile from him even more desperately. Osamu once said that although he’s the twin who loves food, Atsumu’s the one who really hungers. Atsumu thinks he’s starting to get what he means.</p><p>“All right,” he says, simple and steady, a sea of calm in the ocean of Atsumu’s desires.</p><p>“Great,” Atsumu says, then ducks behind the counter to find the teapot and the heat pad Lev charmed for them. For all his terrible taste in music, the kid’s got a talent for fire magic, Atsumu can give him that. He’s rummaging around their drawer to find mugs when his eye catches on a teacup with a rim of crocuses, and it makes him pause, a thought occurring to him.</p><p>“Hey, Kita-san,” he asks, pulling out two cups at random as he turns to face his companion.</p><p>“Yes?” Kita asks, meeting his gaze.</p><p>“What flower d’ya think I’d be? I mean, for yer flower meanings and all,” Atsumu asks curiously, placing the cups on the bench as he sets up the teapot, ducking into the back room for a second to fill it up with water and grab the tea leaves.</p><p>When he returns, Kita is seated on the other side of the bench from Atsumu, expression thoughtful.</p><p>“Edelweiss, maybe,” he says after a moment. Atsumu scrunches up his nose. He doesn’t think Kita’s explained that one to him before. Kita notices, and his lips turn up at the edges. “It means courage,” he explains. “Power too—daring, in a lot of interpretations.” Kita glances at the teapot which Atsumu has now set on the heat pad to boil, then looks wryly at Atsumu. “I think that sounds like you.”</p><p>Atsumu’s heart catches in his throat.</p><p>Kita never says anything he doesn’t mean, which is maybe why it affects him so much to hear that. He knows some people would say there are more important things to be than all that, and he guesses he agrees, if only because he sees more important things in Kita, but those are the things that Atsumu knows how to be, the things Atsumu can take pride in being, and something about that being cemented in Kita’s quiet sincerity lodges itself in his chest.</p><p>“You’re a lot of good things, Atsumu-kun,” Kita says gently. “But I think you’re maybe all that most of all.”</p><p>“Mornin’ glory,” Atsumu blurts out, before immediately turning red. Kita’s brow furrows. “I—I dunno what it means, like, <em> everywhere</em>, I just read somewhere that it means, like, willful promises? An’... An’ that makes me think of you, Kita-san. Doin’ everythin’ on purpose. Like it all matters as much as anythin’.”</p><p>Kita’s expression clears, and the look in his eyes is impossibly soft. Atsumu’s heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest.</p><p>“It has a few meanings,” Kita says, glancing down at the teapot. It’s stopped boiling, but Atsumu can’t bring himself to pour it. He doesn’t want to miss a second of Kita’s face right now. Kita glances back up at Atsumu, and there’s a smile on his face: real and steady and true, more present on his face than Atsumu could have ever dreamed. “But I really like that one.”</p><p>Atsumu feels something unfurling in his chest, like a flower coming into bloom. It feels like hope, maybe. The dawn of something more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i hope you enjoyed! please feel free to come talk to me on <a href="https://twitter.com/kurokenns/">twitter!</a></p><p>fic post on twitter can be found <a href="https://twitter.com/kurokenns/status/1312274983138197504?s=20">here!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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